Choice Of A Hero
by Soxman
Summary: "You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villian." Voldemort rethinks his plans and reveals the evil genius of which he is capable. One-shot.


AN: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own DC comics. Warning: some Dark Knight quotes and redid scenes from the movie used within.

Harry breathed heavily as he loosely gripped his phoenix wand. He couldn't believe it. He could not believe it had come to this. Voldemort had been cast out of a body once more, and yet he had Harry's blood, and time to spare. In mere hours, the Dark Lord would walk again. But this…

Harry stared down at the broken body in front of him. The body laying face-up was that of Albus Dumbledore. His brilliant blue eyes were open in wonder, and a maniacal smile still adorned his face. The purple robe covering him was tattered and ripped in ways that prevented the word robe from describing it accurately. He held a cracked stone in his left hand, and his wand still gripped loosely in his right.

"Harry, what happened?" shouted a familiar voice as man running towards him.

"I killed him," Harry whispered. "I killed him, Kingsley…"

* * *

_One Year Earlier_

"How do I deal with them?" Voldemort snarled to himself. It was two weeks after the follies of the Department of Mysteries, which had led to his rediscovery by the wizarding world. The Death Eaters in Azkaban would be broken out with time, after he'd left them to be punished for a few more months. That was not his problem. His problem was how to defeat Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter. And he still hadn't found a solution.

He closed his eyes and began to meditate. The first plan that had seemed to serve his goals was handing the job to Draco Malfoy, the strutting son of one of his incompetent Death Eater, and having him kill Dumbledore, or lead a team to do it, while he dealt with Potter. And then he realized that Draco Malfoy was an incompetent wizard just like his father, and while it would be amusing to make him and his parents suffer for their failure to obey him, amusement was not his most important need. Additionally, Potter seemed to have miraculous luck escaping alive whenever they had come face to face, and he had no interest in playing a game of whack-a-mole trying to finally end the miserable wretch's life. So that plan was out.

Suddenly an idea hit him. What had his old mentor Gellert Grindlewald once said? "_I know Albus better than any other_." And he was still sitting in Nuremgard, because Voldemort had found his new "change of heart" so disgusting. Surely Grindlewald would know how to defeat Albus. He rose from the seat he had occupied for the last few hours, and stopping to torture a couple of Death Eaters along the way, departed his stronghold for a final conversation or two with his old mentor.

The heart-wrenching guilt finally seemed to be abating for Harry Potter. The wound still hurt, like a stab wound in the early stages of healing, but sill, the healing had begun. He still missed Sirius, and probably always would, but now he had to deal with the cursed prophecy. "_Neither can live while the other survives_." That was why he was peppering over spellbooks, desperate to find something, anything, that would help him against Death Eaters. He couldn't even begin to think about what he would do when he faced Voldemort.

"_The power of love_." How ridiculous was that for a way to defeat Voldemort? Unless of course it was his love for Sirius driving him to try and stay alive, try and defeat Voldemort, in his memory. No, for the first time since stepping onto the Hogwarts Express back in his first year, he was actually studying. Of course, when he'd done so right after Diagon Alley, he was studying because he didn't want to associate with his "relations" and he wanted to know everything he could about magic. Now, he had some vague notions of just trying to survive.

He looked at his new watch. 12:30; The Dursleys were probably fast asleep. Hedwig was sleeping in her cage after all the correspondence she had delivered from Ron, Hermione, and Ginny on how he was doing and how he shouldn't feel guilty. All of the letters he'd received from them Harry longed to burn. Ron of course redirected the conversation to Quidditch, Hermione began trying analyze his feeling and thoughts to show why he shouldn't feel guilty and Ginny… well he didn't know what to make of her letter. One second she was trying to console him, the next she was berating him, and then she switched topics. Harry had no doubt that they were his good friends, and good people, but they were not what he needed right now; the textbook in front of him Sirius had once sent as a Christmas present was.

* * *

_Three months later_

"Thank you," Voldemort declared softly. "_Aveda Kedavra_!" he intoned and familiar green light filled the prison cell. Gellert Grindlewald, his former mentor, fell backwards, a smile plastered on his wizened face. He looked quite eerie with the look euphoria on his face contrasting with his death. Voldemort stared at the haunting scene for a few second, before he stood to depart.

It had taken him three months. Three months to breach the wards at Nuremgard while making sure none knew of his plans. It was worth it.

He'd never really considered the equation correctly. Why did he have to be the one to kill Harry Potter? As long as the boy died a horrible enough death, he could die at anytime. But of course, with Dumbledore acting sentry, almost all plans to assassinate Potter were inevitably to be derailed. So his first instinct was correct; Dumbledore would have to perish first.

Yet Gellert had also derailed his train of thought. "_Why need Dumbledore die_?" Why indeed? If what Gellert had said was true, then this new avenue would secure his power. Now he needed a way to implement his new plan.

With a crack he apparated back to his stronghold. He was met by the familiar calm silence he'd ordered as his stronghold materialized in front of him. He began walking to his sitting room, intent on pondering on the execution of his plan.

"My Lord," his greasy haired Death Eater joined him in walked.

"Severus, what is so important that you must interrupt my musings?" he asked softly.

"Begging pardon, my lord, but I felt you deserved to be kept update about the status of Dumbledore and his cursed hand," Severus replied.

The Dark Lord was inching towards his wand, intent on punishing the defiant Death Eater, when he heard "cursed hand." "Severus, what is the curse on his hand?" he asked. Snape looked nervous. "Out with it, Severus!" he snarled, pointing his wand at Snape's neck.

"A- a cu-curse of Withering, my lord," Severus stuttered.

Voldemort lowered his wand automatically. "Tell me Severus, does he perchance now own a gold ring?" He saw hesitation. "_Crucio_!"

"Y-yes, my lord," was Snape's stuttering reply as his body was racked with pain.

Voldemort's first instinct was to curse the greaseball into oblivion. Dumbledore had discovered his path to immortality. He must-….. He began manically laughing.

He summoned a house-elf at a whim. He turned to Severus noting the disturbed expression on his face. "You are to use the recipe I send via the elf to brew the cure for Dumbledore's curse. Deliver it." He saw Severus's mouth hang open. "Inform Dumbledore that I'm only keeping I'm alive to kill him myself. The curse feels too… easy." With that, Voldemort walked away.

* * *

"Headmaster, I advise that you don't drink it," Snape snarled again. On the desk, in between he and the headmaster sat an innocent looking vial of light blue liquid. Snape had brewed the cure as Dumbledore directed, but he had doubts. He recognized the directions the Dark Lord had given him as being a possible cure. But there were many unknown ingredients and mysterious steps. Besides, he would not trust the Dark to not have an ulterior motive.

"I understand your worry, Severus. We must ask reasonably ask what Tom's actual motives are for sending a cure," Dumbledore replied. "However, you and Horace are in the castle, ready to brew an antidote if it is poison. If it isn't…." he stared out of his window, across the castle grounds, "If it isn't I could be cured," he whispered longingly.

"Headmaster, I believe you are about to make a serious error in judgment," Snape warned as Dumbledore reached fro he vial. He pulled it towards him and withdrew his wand. He began casting spells, trying to examine the concoction. However, when it didn't register as poison, or liquid-imperius, or any other draughts of a darker nature, Dumbledore uncorked it and brought it to his lips. He closed his eyes, almost fearing what would happen, as he tipped the vial, and began drinking it down. He had to stay alive… to guide Harry… to stop Voldemort… to save the wizarding world.

Instantly the potion began to go to work. He opened his eyes to see himself surrounded by soft blue light. He looked down at his blackened hand. Except that he was starting to regain feeling as the blue light converged on his hand. The skin lightened, going from black to brown, brown to red, red to orange, and orange to normal. The nerves were restored. The curse had been cleansed from his body!

"It appears, for some reason, Voldemort desires to keep me in the game," Dumbledore declared. Snape's confusion equaled his own.

* * *

_One month later_

"Harry mate, up for a game of chess? You should stop working so hard," Ron told him as he sat down next to him in the Gryffindor common room.

"Ron, you know what I have to do," Harry replied angrily, referencing the prophecy. He lowered his voice. "I can't beat him without decades of study. I don't have decades, I don't have years, I don't even really have months; he'll come for me sooner. As we speak, he's planning to try and kill me. I'm sorry mate, I need to keep working."

"Ever since you heard the bleedin' prophecy you've been like this," Ron snarled in a low voice. "What's wrong with you?"

In one movement, Harry stood up, his wand at Ron's throat. The rest of the onlookers watched entranced.

"Ron," Harry breathed. "I've taken a lot of shite from you and Hermione for working so hard. I had hoped as my best friends for several years, you two would understand. Apparently you don't." His heart clenched as he came to a decision. "Get out of my sight," he whispered.

"What?" Ron asked completely startled.

"Leave me alone. NOW! Tell Hermione the same thing," Harry said as he sat back down to study. Ron still stood there, gaping at him. "NOW!" Ron was gone in a flash.

* * *

_Six months later_

"Hello Albus," a ghostly figure appeared in his office. One Dumbledore had come to know and love in his youth.

"Gellert," Dumbledore whispered. Even as a ghost, Dumbledore knew him instinctively. "How?" he breathed.

"Voldemort. He killed me," Gellert answered, his voice was still the same. Dumbledore's head went into his hands. He began to weep uncontrollably. "All hope isn't lost Albus." Dumbledore looked up startled to see Grindlewald still there. "Do you have the ring?"

Shaking, Dumbledore summoned the ring from the case he kept it in. Instantly, the ghost lost his transparent glow. Still, he was a ghost. Dumbledore gripped his wand, the elder wand, and the ghost became more solid still.

"Albus, I only have a few seconds. You need the cloak if we are ever to be reunited…" and with that the ghost disappeared.

Dumbledore stared at the spot Gellert's ghost had been a hungry look in his eyes.

* * *

"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore called from his desk.

Harry stared at his mentor in puzzlement. For a few nights each week since the beginning of term, Harry had come to Dumbledore's office to train with the aged Headmaster. On a couple of occasions, Dumbledore had cancelled the night's training session and instead showed him memories from Voldemort's life. All in all, harry had learned so much about magic he never would have dreamed of given an infinite amount of time. Harry had worked hard with and was proud to call the Headmaster his mentor.

"Harry, I was wondering if perhaps I could borrow your father's Invisibility Cloak for a few days?" Dumbledore asked while barely hiding his raw eagerness. He did not want to tip his hand. He could not bear to be denied Gellert… again.

Harry nodded in surprise. "Certainly sir," he opened his bag and pulled out his cloak. "You told me to keep it with me at all times," he replied to Dumbledore's expression of shock.

"Excellent, thank you Harry, I will return it soon. I apologize for the inconvenience you and Ms. Weasley will endure," he smiled genially at Harry's blush, "But unfortunately it is needed for the Greater Good. Anyway, for tonight's lesson, let us discuss when to use what type of shield to use for different scenarios in battle…"

"Harry, are you all right?" Ginny asked concerned.

"Training with Dumbledore, Gin," Harry replied tiredly. He sat down next to his only friend, best friend, and girlfriend.

Ginny rubbed his shoulders soothingly. "You seem a little stressed Harry. If you've finished your work, we could…"

"Sorry Gin, Dumbledore asked to borrow my cloak for a few days. We'll have to make do without for the next few days," Harry replied as he stood to lock arms with her.

"Shall we, Mr. Potter?" Ginny asked seductively.

"Yes we shall, Ms. Weasley," Harry replied as they exited the common room while two angry glares followed their retreating figures.

"Are you going to be all right?" Hermione whispered.

Ron nodded grudgingly. "It makes me so angry: seeing them together. She doesn't see how he's changed." He stared at Hermione. "I'm scared for Ginny," he whispered in a rare moment of vulnerability. "I worry that if it isn't You-Know-Who, it might be Harry. He's just changed so much."

He waited for Hermione to berate him, to tell him how childish he was being. "I worry too," she admitted to his shock. "I just hope the old Harry is still in there, somewhere. But he's too different for me to feel certain."

* * *

"Albus." Gellert Grindlewald's ghost said to the mostly empty office.

"I have to the cloak, Gel. I have it," Dumbledore declared.

"Excellent. You know what to do," Gellert replied.

Dumbledore gripped the stone while concentrating on Grindlewald, and then he clenched his wand. He then shrouded himself in the cloak. Gellert Grindlewald became corporal.

"It's good to see you again, Albus," said Grindlewald as he moved to hug him. But when they touched, Grindlewald became a ghost once more.

"GELLERT!" Albus screamed, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Oh, Albus. That cloak isn't yours," Gellert said sadly.

"Not mine? What do you mean?" Albus whispered.

"To bring me back, you need to possess the cloak like you do the wand and the ring. Harry Potter owns it," Grindlewald answered.

"How can I possess it?" Dumbledore whispered, beginning to fear the answer.

"The Cloak is bound to the Potter line. The last of the Potters must die if you are to ever properly own the cloak. You know what you must do," Gellert answered as he faded away once more. Albus wept uncontrollably for what seemed like enternity. When he finally regained some self control, he summoned over some parchment and a quill, and began staring at it as an internal war raged within.

* * *

"Harry, Severus has just reported to me that Tom is on the move. He is headed to Stonehenge to perform an ancient demonic summoning ritual. I am mobilizing the order as we speak, but I to send you immediately," Dumbledore told him.

"What is he trying to do, sir?" Harry asked.

"There is an ancient belief that the Sphinx in Egypt is a door to another dimension. Tom has recovered evidence to believe that dimensional gateway is actually Stonehenge, and that unlocking the gateway will give him a vast army of demonic warriors to command," Dumbledore replied.

"Am I ready? Do I have any backup?" Harry asked hurriedly.

Dumbledore smiled genially. "Harry, trust in your instincts and all will go according to plan. As I said, I am mobilizing the order as we speak, but I fear we may not arrive in time. Voldemort must be stopped at all costs. I must apologize for placing such a burden on your shoulders, yet I fear I have nowhere else to turn." He gestured to a mug. "When you are ready, touch the cup and say activate, and you will be transported to Stonehenge. I must go rally the Order. Again… I'm sorry," he said as he walked over to the floo and threw some powder into the fire, "Number Twelve Grimmuald Place." And then he was gone.

Harry took a breath and then finally grasped the mug. "Activate."

"You know Harry will succeed," the ghost that had become his constant companion in recent months informed him. "His success won't cost him his life."

"What would you have me do, Gellert? I have given so much already… so much," Dumbledore whispered.

"I know how painful it must feel Albus," the ghost consoled him. "Let me do it," he whispered.

"Gellert?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"Give me control, Albus, I can do it, without there being blood on your hands. All you have to do is let me," Gellert whispered.

"No Gellert I-" Without warning, the ghost plunged into his chest. Dumbledore began screaming like a man possessed. Funny enough, he was. Finally he straightened up and stopped screaming, black orbs eclipsing the normally blue eyes.

"I can handle this, Albus. All it will take is a little sweat, blood, and tears," Grindlewald whispered menacingly as he left the office via Albus Dumbledore's body.

* * *

Five different colored curses streaked past Harry as he ducked and weaved out of their way after he landed. A flick of his wand, and five warriors made of Earth began charging towards the Death Eaters who'd sent curses at him. Three Death Eaters were pummeled, while two blasted the warriors away just in time.

The diversion had been enough time for Harry to gather enough magic and shout "Fulminis." A lightning bolt shot out of his wand and fried all five Death Eaters, who collapsed. Harry knew they were dead.

"I killed them," Harry whispered, who could scarcely imagine what Dumbledore would say. _They were trying to kill me_, a little voice replied in his head. _At least this way, they can't cause anymore destruction, can't make anymore young children orphans_.

Leaving the mental debate aside, Harry began bolting towards Stonehenge, where a gigantic ray of silvery light was illuminating the night sky. He walked through the stone blocks and into the middle of Stonehenge, where Voldemort had his arms raised wide in a magnificent pose.

"Welcome, Harry Potter. Do you see the gateway? Soon, very soon, it will be opened, and the world will bow down before me," Riddle cackled.

"Were you expecting me?" Harry asked curiously.

"Of course, Harry. Of course. There are no others here. And there will be no others. Just you and me…" Voldemort declared softly.

"I don't know about that; the Headmaster will soon be here with reinforcements, though I think I can hold you off until then," Harry declared drawing his wand.

Voldemort responded by laughing maniacally again. "Harry, Harry, Harry. How naïve you are. The old man won't be joining us," Voldemort replied with a laugh.

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded.

"Think, Harry, think how I knew where to position my loyal servants for your arrival. Dumbledore told me," replied Riddle with conviction.

"No- no you- you're lying," Harry stuttered.

"You haven't noticed how erratically he's been acting, how much he's changed? This is truly amusing," Voldemort replied.

"He can't have-"

"Oh, but he did Harry. This whole trap was his idea. There is no dimensional gate," the silvery light evaporated in an instant, "Just many, many wards ensuring we will duel, and that you can't escape via fluke, as you did in the graveyard. If by some miracle you defeat me, then you go free. Only to descend right back into the chaos as the Wizarding World tries to come to terms with their savior, their hero, the wise old wizard, Albus Dumbledore, and how "heroic" he's become. Now let's see what you're made of," Voldemort snarled as he sent a battery of multi-colored curses at Harry.

Harry apparated away only for a bludgeoner to slam into his midsection upon reappearance.

"Now now, Harry, if that is all you have, then this will be a short duel indeed. Let's try again, shall we," Voldemort mocked as he launched another wave of curses at him.

Harry clambered to his feet while Voldemort was taunting him, and began conjuring walls of stone and marble to block the curses. A wave of his wand, and the rubble became ten lions, each of which began charging Voldemort.

None of them even came close. A few waves of Voldemort's wand, and each of the lions were cut down by cutting and blasting curses. Another wave, and an army of serpent, Harry quickly lost count, took their place, all snarling and cursing at him.

Harry slashed his wand and a fireball shot out of it right at the pile of serpents. The serpent pile exploded as his fireball launched the now dead serpents into the air, and obscured the battlefield.

"Kreacher," Harry whispered urgently, and the batty house-elf appeared with a pop.

"Yes master-"

"Go to Dumbledore's office, get the sword of Gryffindor," Harry breathed.

"Head-"

"Fuck the Headmaster," Harry growled, giving into doubt for the first time.

Kreacher disappeared and reappeared with a pop, the Sword of Gryffindor in hand. "We don't have time so here's what we'll do…"

"Hiding, Harry?" called Voldemort mournfully. "You won't even face death like a real wizard? At least your mudblood mother could do that much."

His senses locked onto an area right in front of him as being occupied by Harry Potter who was probably shrouded in a disillusionment charm.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter," Voldemort called out joyously as he launched a curse where his senses told him Potter was located.

Potter apparated away, and Voldemort followed his apparation, to the right. He turned, only to feel a leaking feeling in his abdomen. He looked down, and saw a sword drenched in red planted right through his gut. Suddenly his insides started burning. He involuntarily dropped his wand as his body began spasming from the pain. "How!" he demanded.

Harry smiled grimly. "As I've learned from Dumbledore, a house-elf has the same magical aura as its owner." He gestured a Kreacher who reappeared in the spot Voldemort had swiveled to aim for. "All it took was a simple aura obscuring charm, the Sword of Gryffindor coated in basilisk venom, and more luck."

"As I said, Harry, you way have won this round, but my loyal Death Eaters are standing by, minutes away now, ready to restore me. Run while you still can. And, since my blood ran through your veins, the blood of my former body will suffice. I will return; but will your Headmaster?" Voldemort taunted, as he died and a black cloud began emanating from his body, stopping to hover over it as familiar maniacal laughter began again.

Harry grabbed the sword, and apparated away.

* * *

"Harry Potter; you are wanted for the murder of Severus Snape," snarled two aurors dressed in black as he walked towards the castle.

Harry had seconds to duck the stunning curses they sent his way, and return fire with two of his own.

"Harry how could you?" shrieked Hermione as tears flooded her eyes and she ran towards.

"Hermione, what's happened?" whispered Harry urgently. He could see another battalion of aurors headed his way.

"You… Snape… Dumbledore…. Took Ginny-," Hermione blabbered.

"Where?" Harry roared, pressing his wand against her chest.

"Grimmald Place," Hermione replied as Harry stunned her, and began running away from the castle, intent apparating away.

He saw beams of red light flying past him, curses missed from the aurors. He aimed a banishing curse at the ground, and rocketed out of the anti-apparition wards. With a crack, he was gone.

* * *

"Hello Harry, we've been waiting for you," Albus Dumbledore greeted him as he sat idly at the kitchen table, the day's paper in front of him. He gestured to Ginny, who was unconscious next to him, and a silvery pillar of light next to her.

"What have you done?" Harry snarled.

"Harry all it took was a little polyjuice and "you" killed Severus. I was merely escorting Ms. Weasley to safety," Dumbledore mocked him coldly. He stood up and vanished the table. Ginny's body dropped to the floor.

Harry looked into his eyes and saw black. "What happened to your eyes?" he whispered.

"Gellert came and gave me the strength I needed to do what was necessary. For the Greater Good. Ms. Weasley has already given her all to serve this higher purpose: she is dead," possessed-Dumbledore declared.

At those words, Harry felt his insides turn cold. Ginny was dead… He'd failed her… for the last time.

"Now then, what do you do? You see, Ginny's life force was not enough. I need more. I need Albus. I do not possess the strength to duel you. However, in five minutes, I, Gellert Grindlewald, will walk the Earth again, and then I can kill you. You can either kill Albus, or I will kill you soon enough. Tick Tock, Mr. Potter, the clock is running, and you only have two-hundred and eighty eight seconds left."

Harry stood as till as a statue, the greatest burden he could ever know positioned on his shoulders. He held the wand firmly in his wand. He would either have to kill his mentor, right after losing the love of his life so quickly, or… be forced into his grave as two powerful Dark Lords ripped the country apart. He couldn't defeat Voldemort in a straight-up duel, and Grindlewald was supposed to have been even more powerful. There was no other choice.

Harry gripped his wand, and summoned his hatred, of Voldemort, of Grindlewald, and of the position he was put in, and the agony of seeing his mentor and girlfriend reduced to this, and shouted "_Aveda Kedavra_!"

The green light left his wand, and Dumbledore's eyes widened as he began to laugh. The green light hit him in the chest and he crumpled.

* * *

"That's what happened, Kingsley," Harry explained, his eyes still glued to Ginny's body. She might have just been sleeping, if Harry didn't know better.

Kingsley was staring mournfully at Dumbledore's body. "Voldemort won, didn't he?" he whispered.

An idea came into Harry's head.

"He doesn't have to win," Harry replied.

Kingsley stared at him. "Snape's dead, your girlfriends' dead, and the Headmaster is dead, all by Dumbledore's hand" he said slowly in a whisper. "How can he not win?"

"Perhaps Dumbledore didn't do those things. Perhaps I did," Harry whispered.

Kingsley stared. "No Harry, you can't…"

"Kingsley. It already looks like I killed Snape. Let's not destroy bother of our reputations. What Dumbledore stood for…," Harry trailed off. "He was a hero, despite his flaws, despite his faults… he was a hero. I could never take his place."

"You can't be-" He was cut off by a wave of red light slamming into him.

"_Obliviate_," Harry muttered. "For now, I need to be- for the Wizarding World," he whispered. He took a breath. "You entered into Grimmald Place and found the bodies of Ginny Weasley and Albus Dumbledore. Harry Potter stunned you before you could properly apprehend him. You believe that Harry Potter killed Dumbledore for trying to protect Ginny, and then Ginny for trying to escape. There is no doubt in your mind that Harry Potter is guilty, or the Albus Dumbledore is an innocent victim; a true hero of the Wizarding World."

Harry secured his wand, and walked out the door of Grimmald place, with no idea what to do next. All he knew was that there was a powerful Dark Lord on the loose with four possible Horcruxes, and that he had no allies. The only choice he had was to go on the run. Sighing once more with tears threatening to reappear, he spun on the spot, and a loud, resounding "crack!" was all that remained.


End file.
